HTLJ: My Unsung Hero
by Arianna18
Summary: The villagers can't recall Iolaus' name even after he rescues their children from Discord. .


Hercules had given up hoping that this trial would have a happy ending and had resigned himself to being banished from Greece. Holding his hands out in front of him, his wrists symbolically close together, ready for the manacles to be placed upon them, he steeled himself for the verdict, taking a firm control on his anger and his sense of desolation. But, even in that moment, part of him still could not believe that this was really happening. He just couldn't believe that the actions he had taken through the years to save lives, to protect others from the depredations of warlords or monsters, or even gods, would lead to such an unjust punishment. Still, he would abide by the decision of the law. He didn't know what else to do, having lived his whole life to show that the law could be trusted and should be relied upon. As a hush fell over the court, he held his head high, his jaw tight and his face carefully empty of emotion. Taking a breath, he waited for the words that would make him a stranger in his own land.

However, before the sentence could be rendered, a voice called out, filling the hall with its passion, commanding attention. Hercules swung around, an ache in his heart that his best friend would make this stand for him, and risk his own future in Greece to protest the injustice of this trial one last time. To make it clear to all who were gathered there that he stood with Hercules, and always would.

"No, take me. I'm Hercules…I think like him, I try to act like him," Iolaus called out, his voice forceful and strong as he stood forth, as he had done all his life, to once again align himself with his best friend. "If you think what he's doing is wrong, you'll have to banish me, too."

Hercules wanted to protest, wanted to deny the gift Iolaus was giving him, exiling himself to be true to his beliefs and to his friendship with the demigod. But, the look in Iolaus' eyes silenced him, and his own shone with gratitude for this noble, if hopeless, gesture.

But, then, other voices called out, repeating the claim, "I am Hercules", over and over as, one after another, people gathered around him, aligning themselves with him, his beliefs and his actions. Iolaus' stand had started an avalanche of support by those who had lost all patience with the indecency of this trial. The defender of others found himself being defended, with love, commitment and steadfast confidence in all that he represented. He felt his chest tighten, and his eyes burn, grateful beyond his capacity to express in words, even in the silence of his own mind, for this testament on his behalf. Overcome, he lowered his head briefly, wondering if he deserved such devotion, blinking rapidly and swallowing convulsively, to bring himself back under control.

And, then, as the electric tension in the massive domed hall grew, the prosecutor, Senthius, signaled his impatience with what was happening. But, the judge forestalled the objection as he himself stood to say, "I am Hercules" before banging his gavel and proclaiming, 'case dismissed', effectively ending the nonsense of a trial undertaken for the glory of the prosecutor rather than for any purpose relevant to truth or justice. Stunned by the unexpected reprieve, overcome by the unlooked for support, Hercules was unaware that when he looked up at the Judge's ruling, his face was aglow with happiness and relief.

Once the farce of the trial had ended, the demigod thanked all those who had stood for him, including the widow of the man who had died impersonating him to save others. Thanked all save one, who in typical fashion had faded back and away from the centre of attention, his own face alight with relief, to enjoy watching the love showered upon his best friend. But, there was no time to dally in the village, no time to bask in the support or the victory of right over spite. There was a war in Plathos that he and Iolaus had to try to stop. Bidding a hasty farewell, they walked away through the village, accosted every step of the way by villagers who congratulated Hercules and expressed their satisfaction in his release from the prison.

Leaving the settlement behind, they walked quietly for a time over the rolling countryside, as Hercules thought back over all that had happened in the last several days. There had been a point when he'd thought that, perhaps, the prosecutor had been right, that he'd led people into danger, that it was his own ego that put others at risk. But, Iolaus' steadfast support, and that of his mother, Jason and even in his own bizarre way, Ares, had helped him through the crisis, made him once again certain of his choices. What he and Iolaus did every day, helping others more vulnerable, taking on those who would do harm for their own gain, defeating monsters that terrorized communities…these things were *all right and good. He had no need to feel shame for the way he had chosen to live his life.

As he walked, Hercules found himself studying his friend, who was as usual a couple of steps ahead, whistling softly. Iolaus' eager and endlessly curious and attentive eyes scanned the environment around them, enjoying the bright, warm day and his relaxed bearing revealed his own relief that the trial was finally over.

However, his jaunty demeanor hid his own somewhat bleak thoughts, as Iolaus reflected on the grim moments he had suffered during the trial, most particularly when he'd found that his own testimony only seemed to make matters worse. He hadn't even been able to subdue the giant of a man, Mungg, who had simply been suffering from a toothache, needing Hercules to appear unexpectedly to resolve the problem before turning himself back in again. Iolaus sighed as he reflected that every once in a while he wished his best friend was not such a slave to his respect for the law and those who applied it, whether entirely appropriately or not. Still, that was Herc, his respect for the law was a part of his being and his own brand of ethics…and Iolaus wouldn't change Hercules for anything.

It had been late afternoon when they'd started out, and the sun began to slip into the western hills almost before they realized it. Finding a place to camp a little ways off the road, on the shores of a small lake, they fell into their time-tested routines, building a fire, snagging a couple of fish, and throwing together a satisfying, if modest, meal. As they relaxed by the fire, the night having settled in with velvet gentleness, Iolaus looked up to once again find Herc's eyes on him, a pensive expression on his face.

"What?" Iolaus asked, wondering why his buddy had been throwing him these thoughtful glances since they'd left town.

Hercules looked away for a moment, his head cocked a little, as he replied, "I've been thinking about what happened back there." Bringing his eyes back to his friend, he continued with heartfelt gratitude, "Iolaus… I want to thank you for standing by me, for making me see sense. And, most of all, for what you said. I, well, it meant a lot to me. I think I thanked everyone back there except you…but, I know that it's because of you that the trial ended the way it did."

Iolaus gave his best friend a slow smile, touched by the sentiment even as he shook his head and waved off the gratitude. "You don't need to thank me, Herc. The whole trial had to have been one of the stupidest things I've ever seen. You didn't deserve that, none of it. You're…" Iolaus hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "You're an inspiration, Hercules. The way you live your life, the choices you make, what you do for other people, risking everything to do what's right…."

"Iolaus," Hercules cut in quietly, "those words describe you every bit as much as they describe me."

The hunter chuckled softly, appreciative of the observation, but unable to accept it. "It's not the same thing, Herc. I don't have the same impact on other people, making them want to be better than they ever thought they could be."

"There have been many times when you've made me want to be better than I ever thought I could be," Hercules countered, his voice low, his eyes narrowed a little as he looked across the flames at the man who'd been his best friend for the whole of his life. "I appreciate that you said you 'think like' me and 'try to act like' me, I really do. But, Iolaus, you don't ever have to be anyone but who you are."

Iolaus gazed thoughtfully at his friend for a moment, then his eyes dropped as he nodded wordlessly and turned away to settle down for the night. He knew Hercules meant what he'd just said, but he also knew that Hercules was terminally humble and had no real appreciation of his impact on people. He also suspected that Hercules was gently letting him know that he never would be 'Hercules' and to aspire to such an impossibility was a little ridiculous. Iolaus harboured no personal illusions about the respective impact they each had on the world, and was simply grateful to have the opportunity to stand with Hercules, and to try to make a difference where he could. "'Night, Herc," he murmured, rolling onto his side and resting his head on his bent arm.

"Good night, buddy," Hercules responded, a slight frown between his brows. He knew Iolaus had discounted what he'd said, just as he always did. The demigod wondered how he could get his friend to see how extraordinary he really was. Iolaus never seemed to understand or accept that his own behaviour was inspiring, his own courage unmatched by anyone, including Hercules himself. But, with a sigh, he realized he wasn't going to find the words tonight, so he, too, settled down to sleep.

* * *

"Issttt!" Iolaus hissed, as he pushed himself up from sleeping yet another night on the cold ground. His shoulder ached more than usual this morning, and he grimaced as he rotated his upper arm, loosening the stiffened muscles.

"You okay?" Hercules asked with a slight frown. "Do you want me to massage that for you?"

Iolaus gave his friend a reassuring grin, as he responded, "Nah, it's alright, just a little stiff after that encounter with Mungg yesterday. I sure wish I'd figured out the problem was a toothache before he threw me across the village square!"

Hercules chuckled, as he stood and stretched. "Well, I'm sure you'd have figured it out eventually."

Iolaus snickered, then rolled onto his knee to stir the ashes of the fire to be certain it was out before they continued their journey north. "Maybe so, Herc," he responded, coming to his feet and slipping his pack over his shoulder, the grin on his face belying his self-deprecating words, "but, I'm getting 'way too old for taking on guys that big. I don't seem to bounce as well as I used to. Maybe it's time I faced facts and slowed down a little…you know, behave a little more sensibly, not be so quick to rush in against impossible odds."

Hercules snorted as he looked into the laughing blue eyes of his friend. "Slow down? You?" he asked, shaking his head. "I don't think you could even if you wanted to."

Iolaus laughed, then turned pensive as he gazed at his lifelong friend. He wondered if Herc would ever age anymore, or if he really was immortal. It wasn't anything he was ever going to risk finding out, but there was no getting away from the fact that his friend hadn't changed physically in years. "It's an odd thing, Herc," he said as he turned away, heading back to the trail through the hills to the north, "inside I don't feel any older, but the muscles aren't as resilient as they used to be. Still, what I lack in flexibility, I make up for in experience, I guess."

Hercules' grin faded a little at his buddy's words. As far as he could see, Iolaus hadn't slowed down in any way, and still moved with the grace of an athlete half his age. But, it seemed lately that Iolaus was worrying more about getting older. Shaking his head, he decided that a celebration was in order for Iolaus' next birthday. He'd get his mother and Jason to help, and they could invite all their friends, involve the whole of Thebes…make it a festival. Maybe if Iolaus could see how many people loved and respected him, admired him, maybe he'd let some of his worries go. Or, maybe a celebration emphasizing that he was just another year older would only depress him more. Hercules sighed. He'd have to think about it…but, one way or another, he was determined to find a way for Iolaus to see himself as the hero he was.

Picking up his pace, he looped an arm around his friend's shoulders as he responded to Iolaus' last comment, "All I can say, buddy, is that you seem to more than hold your own." Giving Iolaus a playful shove, he continued, "So, don't think all this whining about stiff shoulders is going to get you out of doing your fair share of the chores on this trip. Hunting for food is still your job."

"Good thing, too," Iolaus teased back, the laughter back in his eyes as he returned the playful banter. "If we had to rely on your skills, we would have died of starvation a long time ago."

"Hey!" Herc protested, pretending indignation at the insult and made as if he was going to shove Iolaus again, only harder this time. But his buddy grabbed his wrist, moving with Hercules' own momentum, and before he knew it, the demigod was flat on his back on the ground, wondering how he'd gotten there. As he looked up at his laughing friend, he scowled in mock rage, growling, "You're going to pay for that!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Iolaus shouted over his shoulder, taking off down the trail with the speed of a startled deer, before Hercules had even rolled back to his feet. Chuckling to himself as he loped with long, ground eating strides after his best friend, he reflected that at this rate, they'd reach Plathos in no time. While Iolaus had always been faster on the short distances, after a mile or so, Hercules was gaining ground. With a shout, he leapt to tackle his friend, rolling with him to the ground, even in fun unconsciously curling so that his own body took the brunt of the sharp encounter with the hardpacked earth.

"Got you!" Hercules crowed, laughing.

Iolaus laughed with his friend as he pulled himself free and rolled to his feet, holding a hand down to aid his buddy up from the ground. A little workout had been just what his muscles had needed, and he felt great. "I must be slowing down some if you can catch me that easily, Hercules," he chuckled.

"Oh yeah," the demigod drawled, "I noticed how much you're slowing down as I flew through the air and landed on my back before I even knew what had hit me."

"Well, you always were a pushover, Hercules...you need to be less trusting. It's just too easy to fake you out," Iolaus replied, again sauntering ahead down the path.

'As if I could ever not trust you,' the younger man thought as he followed the hunter down the trail. Aloud, his expression carefully deadpan, all he said was, "You're right, I'll have to work on my suspicious and paranoid nature."

Iolaus burst out laughing as he turned around, walking backwards, and looked up at his taller friend, mimicking, "'Suspicious and paranoid nature'? Gods, Herc, you don't even know what those words mean. You trust everyone until they prove you wrong. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Makes for an interesting life."

"What do you mean by that?" Hercules countered, one brow arched, a grin playing around his lips.

Iolaus swung back around, ambling comfortably along the trail. "Well, let's just say I never expected to live this long, Hercules," he called back, still chuckling. "But, it's never been dull, buddy...just one great adventure after another."

Herc felt a chill at the words, not finding any humour in them. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed back the anxiety that was always there, just under the surface. That always had been there since the first time Iolaus hadn't survived one of their 'adventures'. Pushing nervous fingers through his hair, he knew Iolaus wouldn't thank him for his worry, so he damped it back down before his buddy picked up on his change in mood. It was something he'd long ago learned to live with, having come to the conclusion that Iolaus' restless, adventurous, courageous and selfless nature would get him into trouble whether or not they traveled together. He reminded himself that his ever present concern about his buddy's vulnerability was a small price to pay for the exuberance, the friendship and the brightness his best friend brought to his days. Not to mention the comfort of knowing he could face any odds when he had Iolaus guarding his back.

Distracted as he was by his reaction to Iolaus' offhand remarks, Hercules failed to sense the shimmering of the air across their back trail. Discord flashed into view for a moment, a speculative look on her face as she considered the mortal's words and sensed the disquiet they caused the demigod.

'Didn't expect to live this long, eh?' thought the troublesome goddess, a grin beginning to pull at her lips. 'Well, maybe we can correct that little anomaly. By rights, you should have been dead a long time ago.'

She thought for a moment longer, trying to decide how to best torment the two of them. It'd been a while since she'd played her deadly games with them, and time had been weighing heavily lately, life on Olympus seeming dull, tedious. It was time to liven things up a little. One long fingernail tapped at the corner of her pursed lips as she thought about the havoc she could create, and then her eyes narrowed in satisfaction, her lips curving in a cruel smile of anticipation. It was always fun to fake out the demigod, making him save one set of victims when the real target was someone else, so that whatever happened he was bound to feel guilty.

Having made her decision, she flashed from view.

* * *

The sun had just passed its zenith when the heroes strode into the nondescript little village, intending to travel right through. But, the sight of several women sobbing, and men trying ineffectually to calm them, while their grim expressions revealed their own emotional turmoil, caught their attention.

Easing through the crowd of anxious villagers, hearing the murmurs of fear and confusion, the heroes knew something serious had just occurred. "What's happened here?" Hercules asked as they approached the group in the centre of the crowd.

One of the men looked up with a deep frown, raking the two newcomers with his eyes. "Discord just made off with their children…said she was bored and wanted 'em to create a trap for the son of Zeus."

The two heroes stiffened and threw one another a quick glance before Iolaus asked, "What kind of trap?"

One of the women sobbed brokenly, "She's taken my girl, Sari, and four other children to a cave up in the hills. She said she was going to chain them to the walls, and that no one could get to them without going past three hives that she's placed in the mouth of the cave."

"And, she said she'd kill our children if we didn't get them out of the cave by nightfall," one of the other mothers whispered, horrified by the thought of her little ones being at such risk.

Iolaus frowned as he listened, his head cocked a little to the side, his hands on his hips. "That doesn't seem like such a difficult challenge. It's not as if the cave is guarded by a ghidra. How bad can a few bees be?"

One of the other women wailed, "She said she'd put a spell on the bees, to make their venom deadly to gods…so that if Hercules tried to save the children, or if our village patroness, Demeter tried to interfere, it would cost them their lives."

"We were just about to go to try to save the children when you arrived," one of the men continued in a gravelly voice, "but, the bitch said the chains couldn't be broken by mortals. So, even if we can get past the damned bees, we still might not be able to save our children before nightfall."

Iolaus sighed as he looked up at Hercules, a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing the threat of death wouldn't be enough to keep Hercules from saving those children. Well, there was no way he could let any of those bees near his best friend, so that meant he'd have to figure out a way of dealing with them himself.

"Why has she done this?" one of the women sobbed, unable to understand how they'd become embroiled in the deadly games of the goddess. They were simple people, who had no knowledge of gods or demigods. People who just did their best to survive, to love their children and stand by their neighbours in times of trouble.

Hercules reached out a gentle hand to grip her shoulder, as he vowed quietly, "Don't worry, we'll get your children back."

"How?" one of the men demanded. "And, why would you, a stranger, challenge the will of a goddess for our sake?"

Herc looked at him sadly for a moment, deeply regretting that these decent people had been caught in a game aimed at him. Coming so close upon the trial, he once again wondered if he hurt as many people as he helped. With a sigh, he replied, "I'm Hercules. She has threatened your children because of me…the least I can do is get them back for you."

A gasp of surprise silenced the murmuring of the crowd, and the women stopped sobbing in their shock at having the demigod amongst them…and at the hope he gave them. Seeing the pain in his best friend's eyes, Iolaus frowned as he rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face as he considered the situation, the threats and the possibilities open to them.

"Where's this cave?" he asked, turning back to the man who had first spoken to them.

"About three miles out of town, up on that hill," the villager replied, pointing up at the forested hill to the west of the village. "If you look close, you can see the path that leads up to it."

Following the man's gesture, Iolaus spotted the path and nodded, then slipped his pack from his shoulder and handed it to the villager, asking, "Would you look after this for me while we check it out?"

"Sure," the startled villager replied, still trying to come to grips with the fact that Hercules had actually walked into their village and was going to save their children.

The blond hunter nodded, and turned to his taller friend. Without a word, Hercules led the way out of the crowd of villagers as they made their way out of the village toward the trail up to the cave.

* * *

Less than an hour later, they had reached a small clearing and could see the mouth of the cave about a hundred feet away. It was below a rocky outcrop, surrounded by the tall pines of the forested hill. Three large hives were visible just inside the mouth of the cave, effectively blocking access into its interior. They could hear the low buzz of the bees, and the higher pitched, desolate tones of a child's keening wail.

Iolaus turned to face his partner, who was standing with his hands on his hips, frowning thoughtfully at the obstacles in front of them. "Herc, it's pretty clear what we have to do. You climb up above the cave, and wait while I knock the hives out of the way. The assault will make the bees swarm, and they'll come after me. I'll lead them down to the south, toward that meadow we can see in the distance," he said, cocking his head in the relevant direction before continuing. "They won't catch me before I get that far, and the likelihood is that the scent of the clover in the fields will distract them. That'll give you enough time to slip into the cave, break the chains and get the kids out."

Hercules blew out a tight breath as he turned to look down at his buddy, and crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't know…being caught by a cloud of angry bees is dangerous, Iolaus. You know the attack of a swarm can kill."

The hunter shrugged his shoulders as he replied, "It's not like we have a whole lot of choice, Herc. You need to be the one to break the chains, and you can't go in there before the bees are lured away."

When Hercules opened his mouth to protest this analysis of the situation, the blond hunter held up one hand, stating very clearly, "I don't know if Discord was lying or not about their venom, but I'm not about to take the chance that she was telling the truth for once. There is no way I'm letting you near those bees, got it?"

As Hercules looked away, his lips thinned in a line of dissatisfaction with the plan, Iolaus glanced up at the sky, gauging the position of the sun. "Besides, we don't have time to come up with a better idea. Don't worry, I used to outrun swarming bees all the time when I was a kid. I'll be fine."

Frowning, Hercules gazed back at the mouth of the cave. He didn't like it. For one thing, he didn't trust Discord, and wondered what other little hazards might exist that they didn't even know about. For another, he didn't like the risk Iolaus was proposing. But, his buddy was right. If Discord had told the truth, Hercules wouldn't be much good to the kids if the bees killed him before he could get to them. Finally, he nodded slowly, wishing he could think of another option.

While Herc had been considering the situation, Iolaus had busied himself gathering leaves, dry and brittle with age, and a small armload of kindling. When Hercules cast him an inquiring look, his buddy explained, "I'm going to light a fire to the left of the mouth of the cave, and shove the hives onto it. The smoke will terrify the bees, and make certain that all of them desert the hives when they swarm."

"Alright," Hercules murmured unhappily. He wasn't used to being the one who might be vulnerable. "I'll climb up above the cave to where I can see you when you lead the swarm away…but, you be careful, you hear me? One slip and they'll be all over you."

Iolaus grinned at him, "Yes, mother, I know. I'll be very careful, and watch where I put my feet." When Herc just threw him a pained look that did nothing to hide the concern he felt, Iolaus continued with a reassuring smile, "Don't worry, buddy. I can outrun them…they'll be confused and angry, and bees aren't very bright. I'll meet you back in the village."

The demigod laid a hand on Iolaus' shoulder and squeezed it once, fully understanding that his buddy was taking this risk for him as well as for the children. For a moment, it looked like he might say something more, but then he simply turned and headed through the forest, circling up above the cave. Iolaus waited until he saw that Hercules was in position, and then he moved forward with a sure, confident step. He'd taunted bees many times when he'd been a kid, drawing them away so that his mother could break the hives open to get the honey inside, the rich honeycombs being useful not only as sweeteners but also for medicinal purposes in treating infections. Consequently, the hunter had no doubt of his ability to outsmart a bunch of bees, or to outrun them for that matter. This would be a cakewalk.

Once he reached the mouth of the cave, Iolaus deposited his kindling and cache of dried leaves on the ground and sparked a fire with a couple of stones he found nearby. He fed the fire until it was burning brightly, then gathered more leaves from outside the cave to build it up higher. The few bees that were buzzing around ignored him, and dipped away from the curl of smoke. Iolaus ducked into the cave for a moment, checking to see if the rest of Discord's story had been true…sure enough, there were five little kids chained to spikes driven into the wall of stone about thirty feet back from the entrance.

"Easy," Iolaus said with a quiet confidence, and a smile, to reassure them when they jumped at his unexpected appearance. The poor little tykes stared at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. "My friend is going to be here in a few minutes. He's very strong and he can break those chains. And, then, he's going to take you home, okay?"

One child sniffed loudly, then nodded solemnly. "I want to see my mommy," he whimpered quietly.

"You will," Iolaus affirmed, ruffling the kid's hair, "very soon now. I promise."

He turned then and headed back to the entrance, pleased to see the fire burning well. Without further ado, he shoved first one hive, then rapidly, the other two over into the flames, where the papery and fragile constructions first smoldered and then quickly caught fire. A loud irritated buzzing arose from inside the hives, and, to help matters along, Iolaus pulled his sword and hacked into the hives, further enraging the bees. As they poured from the ruptured, flame engulfed hives, he pulled back, slamming his sword back into its scabbard, and once he was sure they'd marked him as their assailant, he turned and loped away, watching over his shoulder as the swarm grew and poured out of the cave entrance after him.

Satisfied that the community had decided on its collective action, he gave Hercules a quick wave, then turned his attention to the forest floor, pouring on the speed, knowing that once they were organized, the swarm could move at a very rapid rate. He skidded and slid down the steep slope, heading for the meadow in the distance.

* * *

His heart in his mouth, Hercules watched the swarm fly angrily after Iolaus. 'Gods, there must be a thousand bees…' he thought with a slight shiver of anxiety. He waited only long enough to be certain there were no stragglers, the sweet scent of honey sizzling on the flames making it evident the hives were being consumed by the conflagration. Then, he leapt from his position above the mouth of the cave the ten or twelve feet to the ground below, and loped through the entrance, keeping well to the right of the burning hives.

The frightened children shrank back in unconscious alarm at the sight of the huge stranger running toward them. Sensing their disquiet, Herc held up his hands as he slowed his pace, soothing them with a calm voice, "It's alright. My name is Hercules and I'm here to take you home."

They watched him silently, their dirty faces streaked with tears, as he snapped the chains, one after the other, freeing each of them in turn. "Your parents are waiting for you," Hercules said with a gentle smile. "Are you ready to go home?"

A couple of them smiled tentatively, afraid to hope that they really were free, while another nodded vigorously. Grinning at them, Hercules picked up the three smallest children, perching one of them on his back, with a tight grip around his neck, and holding two others in his arms, as he turned to lead the others out of the cave. The hives were well aflame at that point, and soon there would be nothing left of them.

Without a backward glance, Hercules and the children headed down the path back to the village.

* * *

Iolaus was having no problem staying ahead of the body of the swarm. One or two bees had broken loose and had stung him, one on the face, and another on his arm, but he ignored them and just poured on more speed. He was about halfway down the hill toward the meadow when vines snaked out, as if of their own volition, and looped themselves around his ankles, tripping him. He staggered and tried to maintain his balance, but he was moving too fast and the slope was too steep. Tumbling forward, he crashed to the earth, landing hard and driving the wind from his lungs.

He didn't have to look back to know the swarm was bearing down upon him. He tried to roll, but it seemed his boots were entwined with something and wouldn't come loose. He twisted and saw the vines tightly wound around his ankles. Kicking and tearing at them desperately, they clung to him as if alive. It was at that moment that he realized it had been a trap, that he had been expected to lure off the bees, and was expected to die when the swarm caught him…and then, the air was filled with furious bees intent upon a mindless revenge.

The angry buzzing filled his ears, and he had to close his eyes against the bees that zoomed in toward his face. He waved his arms, trying to drive them off, but the bees formed an angry cloud that closed in around him, stinging, over and over, his chest and stomach, arms and back, neck and head. They were so thick in the air he couldn't draw a breath without feeling them around his mouth and nose. With an exclamation of disgust, he rolled face first to the ground, hands frantically brushing the bees from his face. Desperately, he lifted his arms up around his head, protecting his face, so that he could at least breathe. He shuddered a little at the feeling of the thousands of feet crawling over his body while the enraged creatures punished him over and over for attacking their home.

'Gods,' he thought, biting his lip against the agony of the venom, 'this is not good.' He couldn't get away, so he could only endure, and wonder how long it would take for Hercules to find him. With a sinking heart, he deeply regretted the fear for him that Herc would feel…and the guilt. 'Damn it,' he cursed within the tumult of his mind, 'I damn well better still be alive when he gets here, or he'll never forgive me for tripping.' He'd made light of the disaster even in his own mind, but in his heart, he knew Hercules would never forgive himself. He swallowed, and tried to lose himself somewhere in the vast reaches of peace that he knew was there, somewhere inside of him.

But, fire blossomed on his skin as they stung his arms and back, and some even penetrated the leather of his pants, so that only his boots resisted their punishment. Gritting his teeth against the agony of the relentless, endless assault, he again tried to clear his mind, tried not to panic and roll. If they got to his face, and invaded his body, stinging him inside as well as out, suffocating him, he knew he'd not survive their assault. So, he hung on, knowing that it had to end, that it could not continue forever.

"Damn you, Discord,' he muttered with soul-deep fury. 'I will not let you win…do you hear me? I'm going to hang on, and be here when Herc comes for me. I will not let you beat us!"

But, his endurance, and strength of will, could only resist so long before his body succumbed to the fiery torment and slipped into unconsciousness.

He didn't hear the low, sultry chuckle of satisfaction, or see the cold smile on Discord's face as she stood over his bee-shrouded body, delighted that this was all working out exactly as she had planned.

* * *

Hercules was met by exclamations of joy as he strode into the village with the children. Relieved and grateful parents swept the kids out of his arms, from his back, and up from the ground behind him, hugging them close, tears of pent-up fear streaming down their faces. Men pounded his back in congratulation and women reached out to touch him, to hug him and to whisper their heartfelt thanks.

The demigod smiled in satisfaction at the relief, glad that he and Iolaus had been able to free the children and return them safe to their families. Looking up and around the assembled crowd, he wondered how long it would take his buddy to ditch the swarm and return to the village. Given the slow pace he'd had to maintain for the children, he'd hoped that Iolaus would have beaten him back. One of the men appeared with a mug of ale, insisting that Hercules drink, to celebrate his triumph. Unable to refuse without appearing churlish, Hercules accepted the pewter mug with a slight smile and a diffident shrug, taking a small sip as his eyes skipped around the square, expecting his friend to appear at any moment.

But, the moments dragged on into minutes, and the minutes slowly mounted up until almost an hour had passed since he'd returned to the village. It was too long. Iolaus should have been back by now. As the anxiety grew from a flutter to knots in his gut, the demigod extricated himself from the celebrants, heading toward the edge of town.

One of the villagers ran after him, catching him by the arm, calling out, "Hercules! You can't just leave. We want to hold a dinner in your honour and give you a place to rest tonight at the inn."

Hercules turned back briefly, explaining, "Thanks, but I have to look for Iolaus."

"Iolaus?" the man asked, with a baffled look on his face. "Who's Iolaus?"

"Come on, you must remember? The blond man who was with me when we arrived earlier, and who went with me to save the children? He drew off the bees so that I could get into the cave…."

But, the puzzled man just shook his head. Hercules' breath caught when he realized that this villager honestly had no recollection of Iolaus, not having noticed him at all. Gods, why did it always have to be this way, his buddy forever lost in the shadows because everyone was too impressed with meeting the Son of Zeus. It wasn't right, and it sure wasn't fair.

"He's out there, risking his life, so that your children could be rescued," Hercules said then, his voice tight with anger. "The least you could do is remember his name."

Without another word, Hercules pulled away from the man and continued out of the village, his pace quickening as he headed toward the meadow Iolaus had indicated from up on the hill, hoping he'd meet his buddy on the way.

But, there was no sign of Iolaus, even when he reached the meadow, and called out his name. Only silence, broken by the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the trees at the meadow's edge. Standing there for a moment, Hercules gazed up the hill, trying to decipher the path Iolaus would have taken when he'd set out from the cave. Deciding on the most likely route, he set off, jogging up through the forest, climbing higher, the fear in his heart swelling to clog his throat. Something had happened to Iolaus, something that had prevented him from even reaching the meadow. His jaw clenched, his chest tight with anxiety, Hercules tried not to think about what he would find as he quickened his pace.

He heard the low buzzing before he saw the bees, and he slowed to make a cautious approach through the thick forest. Bending low to move under a branch, he straightened to continue on, and then froze, horrified by the sight in front of him.

Hundreds of bees were crawling over a man-shaped mound on the earth about ten feet away.

'Please, gods, no,' he prayed unconsciously, sickened by the sight. Bending, he quickly gathered up leaves, twigs and broken branches, then carried them to the upwind side of the swarm. Laying the kindling on the ground, he struck his gauntlets together, creating a spark that built quickly into flames. Digging in the moldy earth, he dropped damp leaves over the flames, causing smoke to build and rise, carried by the wind over the swarm, suffocating them.

The smoke broke the concentration of the bees, causing an atavistic fear to rise within them, driving them up and into the air, away from the source of danger. In seconds, Iolaus' body was free of the infestation and the bees had gathered themselves into a swarm to return to the cave, not realizing their hives had long become ash.

For a moment, Hercules couldn't do more than stare at the ruin before him. It looked as if Iolaus had been stung thousands of times, his skin reddened and swollen from the venom, blood seeping from many places on his arms and back. He lay unmoving and Hercules was almost afraid to touch him, afraid to find that his soul had long fled from the pain and poison. Like a man in a nightmare, Hercules stood and quickly stamped out the small fire before it could grow out of control, all the while the thoughts in his mind tumbling in disjointed shock… 'I told him to be careful,' the demigod remembered, numb, his mind not really able to take in the devastation before him, unable to accept what it might mean.

'He can't be dead,' he thought then, as he knelt and gently turned Iolaus in his arms, supporting his best friend's head and shoulders in the crook of his left arm, while his right hand reached toward Iolaus' throat, searching for a pulse. A ragged sob escaped his throat when he found the flutter under his fingertips. His fingers then brushed Iolaus' hair from his face, and Hercules winced at the swelling around his buddy's left eye, his mouth and cheek from the stings on his face.

"Iolaus?" he whispered, his throat tight, his eyes burning. "Come on, buddy, wake up."

The strength of his arms, the sound of his voice, penetrated the darkness, providing a beacon for Iolaus' spirit to follow back to consciousness. With a low moan, he stirred, and his eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain and dull with the effects of the poison in his system. "Herc?" he murmured, having trouble focusing.

"Yeah, I've got you," Hercules replied, his voice not quite steady.

"The kids?" his buddy asked weakly.

"They're all safe, don't worry," the demigod responded, feeling as if a hand was squeezing his heart. Gods, Iolaus was brutally hurt, but his first thought was still for the children.

"Vines," Iolaus muttered. "Couldn't…get away…."

"It's alright, just hang on," Hercules reassured his friend. "I'm going to take you back to the village. You're going to be fine."

Nodding weakly, Iolaus surrendered himself to Hercules' care, his eyes fluttering closed even as he tried to fend off the darkness that crowded at the edges of his mind.

The demigod was about to rise, when he noticed the vines twisted around his buddy's ankles. Iolaus hadn't tripped…this had been no accident. "Damn you, Discord," he growled as he reached to tear the growth away. Hercules wanted to scream with rage, in protest at the indecency of it, the wretched cruelty that victimized Iolaus, making the hunter suffer horribly for the sole crime of being his best friend.

The trilling of brittle laughter filled the forest, and then Discord manifested herself before him, her black eyes brimming with her delight in the pain she was causing Hercules and his ever-so-noble friend. "Gotcha!" she crowed with immense satisfaction. "You should have listened to your partner and not been so trusting, not believed everything you hear. The bees couldn't harm you, but they can sure do a number on a mortal, can't they. He's as predictable as you are…I knew he'd never take the chance of the bees stinging you. Now I get to watch him die and it's all your fault. If you'd risked yourself, instead of him, you'd both be just fine, and you'd still have gotten the kids home safe and sound. I win."

"This isn't a game!" Hercules shouted with rage, as his muscles bunched in preparation for a lunge toward her, to punish her with all the anger and grief that burned within him for what she had done to Iolaus. But, his action was forestalled when he felt his buddy's hand weakly grip his arm, and he looked down to see that Iolaus had struggled back to consciousness at the sound of her vindictive voice. The hunter's eyes flashed with fury as he stared up at the black-hearted goddess.

"Not Herc's fault," he rasped. "Yours. I'm still alive…you lose…."

Discord just grinned like the cat who'd found the cream, almost purring as she gazed down upon her handiwork, reveling in the bruising and blood, the swelling from the stings and the venom, the pain she could see in the blond's eyes. "You're still alive, but not for much longer. And when you gasp your last breath, think of me."

"You bitch," Hercules snarled, incandescent with rage. "I'll see you in Tarturus."

"Tut tut," she scolded, shaking a finger at him, "Such language!" She laughed again cruelly, and then vanished in a puff of smoke.

Iolaus twisted with pain, unable to suppress a small moan of agony, his hand falling from Herc's arm to wrap itself around his torso, as if he could push the pain down and away.

"Easy, buddy," Hercules murmured, reining in his anger to focus on Iolaus. "I'm going to get you to help. You're going to be okay. Just hang on."

Iolaus nodded weakly, his eyes trying to convey a message of reassurance to his friend, trying to ease the worry and grief he saw in Hercules' eyes. But, he couldn't hold onto consciousness, and he slipped back into the darkness.

Shaking with anger, letting his rage mask his terror for Iolaus' life, Hercules gathered his buddy into his arms and rose in one smooth motion, turning to angle through the woods, darkening now as dusk set in, back toward the village. But, his blue eyes were clouded with the fear he wouldn't fully acknowledge, every muscle tight with inhuman control, as he moved as quickly as he could through the thick virgin growth of the forest.

There had to be a healer in the village…there had to be someone there who could help Iolaus.

* * *

It was almost fully dark by the time Hercules made it back to the village, the alleys and streets dimly lit by the flickering torches placed in brackets on the walls of the buildings and upon tall wooden poles around the square. There was no one about, all the villagers having retreated to their homes for the evening meal.

Loping into the square, the demigod's eyes raked the buildings, and settling upon the tavern as the most likely place to find aid quickly, he headed rapidly toward it across the open ground, and shouldered his way inside.

"Help me," he called out as he entered. "My friend's been hurt."

There were five or six men enjoying the hospitality of the tavern keeper when Hercules crashed the door open and blundered into their midst. The low-ceilinged room was smoky from the peat fire, and their animated conversation dropped into silence as they all turned to face him, appalled by the sight of the injured man in his arms.

"Bring him back in here," called the tavern keeper, motioning Hercules across the room, leading him through a low doorway and down a short hall into one of the small chambers the man kept for strangers who needed a bed for the night. The taverner carried a long candle in his hand, and placed it into a holder on a low cupboard by the cot, its bright, flickering light cutting through the darkness of the room.

"I'll get Dagos," another called out, then headed into the night in search of the healer.

Hercules carefully laid Iolaus down upon the narrow cot in the tiny cell-like chamber. There was hardly enough room to turn around in the room, filled as it was by the cot, the low cupboard and a single wooden stool. "Get me warm water and clean rags. I need to clean the wounds," the demigod said urgently to the tavern keeper, who nodded and left to fulfill the request.

Swiftly, but gently, Hercules pulled Iolaus' boots from his feet, loosened his belts and pants, drawing them off his friend's body and then he eased his buddy's vest off his shoulders. In the hour since he'd first found Iolaus, a fever had built and his friend's skin was hot and dry under his hands. Iolaus' breathing was rapid and very shallow, his skin a sickly gray under the flush of fever. His arms, hands, chest, back and legs were grotesquely swollen from the stings, and the venom under his skin, the blood still oozing slowly from innumerable tiny wounds.

Hercules pulled the rough woolen blanket up over his friend's body, and slumped onto the stool, taking one of Iolaus' hands in his own, wishing the man would hurry up with the water and bandages, and that the healer would arrive. Although the seconds and minutes dragged, seeming like hours, it wasn't long before the tavern keeper clumped back down the hall, the healer close behind him.

Hercules stood and moved back, allowing the healer access to Iolaus. The man bent over his friend, gentle fingers examining Iolaus, testing his throat for swelling, listening to his breathing, noting the fever and the ugly evidence of the assault of the swarm. "My name is Dagos," he muttered over his shoulder to Hercules, as he turned to dip a clean rag in the bowl of water the tavern keeper had set on the cupboard. "And that's Milius," he said, referring to the owner of the establishment.

Hercules nodded to acknowledge the introductions, as he asked anxiously, "What do you think? He's going to be all right, isn't he?"

Dagos just shrugged as he turned his attention back to the unconscious man on the cot. With firm, smooth movements, he bathed the blood and grime from Iolaus' head and body, taking note of the myriad stings, not bothering to even try to count them all. He'd never seen anyone survive such an assault, and it wasn't in him to give false assurances. There was no doubt that this man was gravely hurt, and from the sound of his breathing and the heat of the fever raging through his body, he was not far from succumbing to the poison that was overpowering his natural defenses.

The healer sighed as he finished cleaning his patient's body, and stood to look impatiently around the narrow room. "We need to shift the furniture in here," he said, motioning to the cot and the cupboard as he pushed the stool away. With a few brief directions, he indicated that he wanted Hercules and Milius to move the cot away from the wall, so that Hercules could move over on the other side, to support his friend while Dagos treated his wounds.

In moments, glad to have something to do to help, if only peripherally, Hercules had shifted the furniture and was kneeling on the far side of the cot, rolling Iolaus toward him to allow Dagos access to his friend's back. The healer knelt as well, rummaging in a sack he had dropped on the floor when he'd first arrived. Grunting with the success of finding what he sought, Dagos lifted a small pot from the sack and pulled its lid off. Dipping his fingers into the creamy salve, he liberally coated the stings to draw out the poison and ease the swelling and pain. Hercules held Iolaus securely while the healer worked, gazing down into his buddy's flushed face, noting the lines of pain and the dark hollows under his eyes. Finished with the salve, Dagos again rummaged in his sack, pulling out a roll of linen. Unwinding it, and tearing off innumerable sections to make bandages, he gently laid the strips across Iolaus' back, winding them around his torso to also cover the swelling wounds on his chest, then bandaged his arms and legs.

Standing, he nodded to indicate Hercules could settle his friend back on the cot. Herc brushed Iolaus' hair from his face, as the healer dabbed salve on the stings on Iolaus' face, and then felt through his hair, to coat the lumps there with the healing salve as well. "I'm going to the kitchen to steep some herbal tea which you'll need to force into him. It will counter the poison of the venom and help him breathe a little more easily," Dagos said, as he turned toward the doorway, drawing Milius out with him.

"How is he?" Hercules heard Milius ask quietly, but he turned his head away when he saw the healer shake his head sadly, refusing to acknowledge the pessimistic prognosis.

"He's wrong," Hercules murmured gruffly, as he gazed at his best friend's face. "You're going to be all right."

Hercules rose to his feet and looked around for the stool. Spotting it in the corner by the door, he pulled it back over to the cot and sat down, again cradling one of Iolaus' hot hands between his own larger ones. He hated this, hated feeling so helpless, hated the fear that twisted in his gut and made it hard to breathe. Hated most of all that Iolaus was once again suffering and in danger of dying because of him. The demigod trembled a little as he struggled against the turbulent emotions that raged through him and fought back the tears that burned in his eyes. He was not going to cry. Crying meant he'd given up and he wasn't going to give up. Iolaus wasn't going to die. Gods, he couldn't die.

The healer was soon back with a clay pot filled with steaming, sweet-scented tea, and a glazed, earthen mug. "Keep giving him this, as much as he can take at a time, until it's all gone. Leave the bandages for at least two hours, but then you'll need to bathe him to bring the fever down. I'm afraid if we let it rage too long, he'll go into convulsions. Then, apply more of this salve, cover him with it."

"His name is Iolaus," Hercules murmured quietly.

"What?" demanded the healer, distracted from his instructions.

"His name," Hercules repeated, "is Iolaus." Gods, he was tired of no one ever knowing his best friend's name, always treating him as some anonymous, unimportant stranger, if they even noticed him at all. Iolaus was lying here, maybe dying, because he'd put his life on the line for the children of this village. They all owed him the dignity of at least acknowledging him by name.

"Uh, yes, Iolaus," sighed the healer, laying a hand upon Hercules shoulder to draw his attention. When the demigod looked back and around over his shoulder, the healer looked away for a moment, then sighed again, wishing he could offer hope. "I'll return later to see how he's doing." Quietly, the man left the room, burdened by the sorrow he'd seen in Hercules' eyes.

Herc filled the mug with tea, and blew on it to cool it a little. Then, he eased a hand under Iolaus' neck, lifting his friend's head a little as he brought the mug to his buddy's lips. "This'll help, Iolaus," he said quietly, as if his buddy could hear him. "Come on, you have to drink some." Patiently, he fed the tea, almost a drop at a time, to his partner, until Iolaus coughed and choked a little, unconsciously turning his head aside.

"Okay," Hercules murmured to his unconscious friend, "I'll give you a break, but you'll have to drink more in a little while."

He laid Iolaus' head back down on the shabby pillow, and stroked the damp curls back from his face. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Hercules said quietly, "You can't do this, you know. You can't die on me. I don't know what I'd do without you, you know that. You have to fight, Iolaus…you have to make it. Please, buddy…you have to live."

But, Iolaus didn't respond, just laid there, too still, the fever mottling his face, his breathing more ragged than it had been an hour before.

Hercules frowned with deep worry, and bit his lip as he gazed intently at his partner, as if by will alone he could make Iolaus wake up, and laugh, telling him what a blast it had been racing pell mell down the hill ahead of those damned bees. He looked down, his head falling forward, his hair obscuring his face as he twisted his hands together.

"You're hurt because of me," the demigod murmured, guilt thick in his voice. "To protect me, to save me from the threat of the venom, you put yourself in harm's way…again."

Looking back up at Iolaus, brushing his cheek with the back of his fingers, Hercules felt the fire of the fever and wondered how much of it his buddy could take. Wondered what the poison was doing to him inside.

"You never complain. You're just always there when I need you," Hercules whispered, his voice breaking. "I don't know how to do any of it without you. You never criticize me, never rage about what happens because of my damned relatives. You never hesitate to do what needs to be done, without question, without any doubts. Gods, Iolaus, I can't stand this." Herc's voice cracked, and he covered his face with his hands. He might want to deny the healer's unspoken conviction that Iolaus was going to die, but he couldn't ignore how serious this was, how badly injured Iolaus was. He couldn't quell the sick fear that curled within him, growing with each passing hour.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened and reached for the mug, again lifting his buddy's head, again forcing the healing fluid down his friend's tight, increasingly congested, throat.

One hour passed, and almost another, the fever growing stronger, robbing his friend of the strength he had left, the strength he needed just to keep breathing. Deciding he couldn't wait any longer, Hercules stripped the bandages from his buddy's body and began to bathe him with water that had grown cold on the cupboard.

But, it didn't seem to help. The fever just kept climbing, his friend's skin growing hotter and hotter to the touch. And, as the fever climbed, Iolaus grew restless, as if somehow he wished he could rise and run away from it, leave the relentless heat behind. His head thrashed weakly from side to side, his arms and legs twitching, his fingers scratching at the sheet Hercules had pulled over him, trying unconsciously to push it aside.

He muttered in his discomfort and disorientation, trying to draw himself back toward consciousness. "Hercules?" he whispered through swollen lips, his eyes dark with pain and clouded with confusion.

"Shh, I'm here, Iolaus," Hercules replied, his fingers lightly brushing his partner's cheek. "Don't try to talk, buddy. Just rest."

"Hot," Iolaus rasped, panting a little for air.

"I know," Hercules responded as he almost desperately swabbed his friend's body with the sodden cloth, but instead of alleviating Iolaus' discomfort, the coolness of the water seemed to worsen his condition, bringing on the trembling shiver of a fever chill. Alarmed, the demigod drew the blanket up and around his buddy's shoulders, wrapping him tightly in its warmth. And still Iolaus shivered miserably, moaning a little in his unconscious distress at the pain that burned through his body.

The healer returned about an hour later, bearing additional salves in little clay pots. He found Hercules almost frantic with fear because he couldn't bring down the fever, and he couldn't stop the chills. Each time Iolaus moaned with the torment of the poison raging within him, the demigod cringed in sympathetic distress. Dagos examined his patient, finding nothing to give him hope. The man was fighting valiantly, but it was clear his strength was waning.

Suddenly, Iolaus' body spasmed as his muscles contracted, then thrashed in convulsions. Hercules held him, keeping him from rolling off the cot, calling out, "Easy, buddy, gods, Iolaus, easy…"

Dagos watched helplessly, knowing there was little more that could be done for the suffering man. Finally, the convulsions subsided, leaving Iolaus limp in Hercules' arms. His breathing was seriously ragged, as he gasped for air through a throat that was steadily closing.

"Come on, buddy, keep breathing. Don't quit on me now," Hercules whispered, raising Iolaus' shoulders to help him breath more easily. But, it wasn't a matter of giving his lungs more room to expand. His throat just wouldn't let the air pass. The wind whistled in his throat as he dragged in each tormented breath, each one slower than the one before, the struggle to survive again drawing Iolaus back to consciousness.

"Herc?" Iolaus rasped, his eyes widening in alarm as he realized he couldn't get enough air. "Can't… breathe…."

"Don't panic," Hercules replied, his own voice shaking. "Breathe slowly, as deeply as you can. Come on, buddy, you can do this."

Iolaus nodded, and dragged in one shallow, rasping breath after another, the sound of the air whistling sickeningly with each painful gasp. He kept his eyes on Hercules, as if drawing strength and hope from the demigod's eyes. But, then, there was silence. Iolaus' eyes widened, frantic with the fear of suffocation, his chest fluttering in its effort to draw in air that wouldn't pass his clogged throat. Weakly, he gripped Herc's arm, holding on, his gaze bright with the trust that something could yet be done to help him.

Terrified, Hercules' eyes flashed to the healer. "DO SOMETHING!" he cried, desperate, helpless.

If the man had been unconscious, Dagos would have let him go. But, Iolaus' eyes flashed to his, desperate to live, the fire in them bright and full of life. Full of hope and determination. There was no fear there, no doubt. The healer couldn't just let him die when he was awake, and fighting with all that he had against the odds. Dagos swore as he ripped through his sack and finally found the sharp blade and the small, hollow, clay tube he needed.

"Lay him down and push his chin as far up and back as you can," the healer ordered, knowing it was hopeless, that he was only delaying the inevitable.

Complying, wondering how this would help, Hercules watched with a kind of horror as Dagos leaned over his best friend, bringing the knife to his throat. "What are you doing?" demanded the demigod, not understanding.

"Helping him the only way I can," Dagos muttered as he tried to still the shaking of his hand. He'd only seen this done once before, by the great Aesclepius, when he'd gone on pilgrimage to Epidaurus long years ago. He'd hoped never to be required to perform such a terrifying procedure, but the time had come. Carefully, he felt the hard ridges of the windpipe, and then low, down toward the base of the throat, he cut a small slit and hurriedly inserted the small tube.

Immediately, Iolaus' chest heaved as his body drew in the blessed air, the sound of it whistling through the pipe. Disoriented by the suffocation he'd suffered, unnerved by having his throat cut, Iolaus' swollen hands awkwardly reached toward his throat to find out what was stuck there.

But, Hercules grabbed his hands, easing them back down to his chest, reassuring him, "It's alright, Iolaus…Dagos is just helping you to breathe. Relax, buddy, it's alright."

Mute, Iolaus' eyes flashed from Herc to the healer, his brows arched, the question clear in his eyes.

Hercules looked from his buddy to the healer, his own eyes wide with the cold terror he felt. "How long can he last like this?"

Dagos stared down at Iolaus for a long moment, wondering which would happen first…the airway clog again, or the heart give out in exhaustion. Either way, no matter how strong his spirit, his will to live, it was unlikely he'd last until morning. Looking up into Hercules' eyes, seeing the desperate hope there, and knowing he could not support it, he steeled himself to say the words that needed to be said. As much as the Son of Zeus was hoping his friend would recover, he needed to face the truth. Otherwise, he would be devastated when the inevitable happened during the long cold hours before dawn.

His gaze again returning to Iolaus' eyes, Dagos said quietly, "I'm sorry, there's nothing more I can do. It's up to the gods now." Understanding, the blond hunter squeezed his eyes shut, and weakly shook his head, unwilling to accept the pity he saw in the healer's eyes. He tried to fight the darkness that was again stealing over him, but it was no use. Dimly, he could hear Hercules, but he couldn't make out the words.

"No," Hercules protested, his voice tight in his throat, tears filling his eyes. "No…there has to be something more we can do. I'll do anything…gods, I'd give my own life…."

Dagos closed his eyes as he shook his head. Sighing, he replied quietly, "There is nothing more you can do, other than continue to fight the fever and lather his body with the salves I've brought. I'll bring more tea, but you'll have to be careful that he doesn't choke on it. I'm very sorry. I can see that you love him very much, but there is too much poison in his body, too much for him to fight much longer. You have to prepare yourself…."

Shaking his head wordlessly, numbly, Hercules looked down at Iolaus, his heart breaking with the agony he could read in his friend's face and the sound of Iolaus fighting for every breath. He pulled his buddy into his arms, holding him against his chest, one large hand cradling Iolaus' head. This couldn't be happening.

"He never expects any thanks for what he does, you know?" Hercules whispered hoarsely to himself as much as to the healer. "He's gotten used to nobody noticing him, to being in the shadows, sometimes he's even amused by it. But it never stops him from doing what's right, from helping anyone who needs him. He's never wanted any glory…he just does what he does out of love and courage. He's a good man, the best I've ever known. And, he makes me be the best I can be, because that's what he deserves for the faith he shows in me, has always shown in me."

The demigod looked up at the healer, the flickering light of the candle glimmering in the tears that filled his eyes. "I can't bear to lose him. Please, there must be something?" Hercules begged, not caring about the tear that slipped down his cheek, heedless of the pleading note in his broken voice.

Dagos felt his own throat tighten at the ragged, naked grief in the hero's eyes. As often as he'd attended the deaths of others, as often as he'd seen the wretchedness of helpless love and loss, it never got easier. Somehow, seeing a man, a demigod with the strength of a hundred men, reduced to such hopeless misery moved him beyond words. Whoever this Iolaus was, he must have been an extraordinary man. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he shook his head and turned away from the pain in those brilliant blue eyes. "I'll go make more tea."

Stricken, Hercules watched the man go. Then he eased Iolaus back down and returned to the other side of the cot, where he could again dip a rag in the water and once again begin to fight the fever.

"No," Hercules said, his voice tight with grim determination, "I won't accept that…there is always hope." He would not give up. Iolaus was not going to die. He wouldn't let him.

All the while that he worked over his buddy's body, bathing him, then coating the puffy, reddened sites of the countless stings with the salve, he kept talking to Iolaus, quietly, but steadily. "Back there, during that trial, I could see they thought I was some kind of fool, always fighting the impossible, always denying the inevitable. But, they didn't see me the way you do, did they? You see some kind of hero, someone undefeated, who will never quit. Well, buddy, I'm not going to quit now, either. I'm not giving up on you, you hear me? And, you can't give up, either. The healer means well, but he's wrong. He doesn't know you, he doesn't know how much courage or strength you have, how irrepressible you are…how alive. You're not going to quit on me, you hear? You're going to keep fighting, and you're going to make it. You have to make it. Gods, Iolaus, please, you have to live."

When the healer brought the tea, Hercules nodded his thanks, and poured it, patiently setting about making sure that Iolaus drank every drop. Dagos watched silently for a while, then, shaking his head with sorrow, he turned and left the demigod alone with his friend. If hope, love and determination were enough to keep anyone alive, then the hero would stave off death. Sadly, Dagos reflected to himself as he walked quietly down the hall, all the love and determination in the world was never enough when Thanatos was hovering so close Dagos could almost feel the chill of him in the air.

Throughout the long, dark hours, Hercules tended to his best friend. When Iolaus again began to shiver with the chills of the fever, he wrapped his buddy in the blanket, and pulled him up into his arms, tight against his chest, to share his own warmth. And, he kept talking, whispering, murmuring, his voice hoarse with fear and grief, but unceasing, holding Iolaus' spirit close by the sound of his voice and the strength of his arms.

Finally, the chills ceased, and Iolaus lay quietly again in his arms. Hercules lifted him from the cot, and then slid down the wall, to sit on the floor with Iolaus curled against him, his buddy's head resting against his shoulder, determined to hold on to his friend with everything he was.

"I wish you knew how really amazing you are," Hercules murmured, his lips against his buddy's damp curls. "You never accept it when I try to tell you. All these years, ever since we were kids, you've stood up for me, stood between me and anyone or anything that threatened me, like that prosecutor…or those bees. You back me up, every damned day, against crazy, impossible odds, leaving me breathless in the face of the risks you take…in the face of your courage. And you never quit, never give up. You're the bravest man I know, and the most decent. You don't know how to refuse anyone who needs your help. But, you always shrug it off, you know? You always act as if what you do is nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special. Nothing more than anyone else would do. But, there's nobody who would do what you do, nobody who would take on the gods, even, if that's what's needed, without even blinking, without any hesitation. Gods, Iolaus, don't you know you're incredible?"

The demigod sat silently for a while, his thoughts drifting back over the life they'd spent together. A sad, reflective smile played around his lips as he murmured quietly, "I remember once, when I was so furious with Jason over Medea, that you told me that sometimes it's hard to be my friend. And, then, you said that you stayed with me because it made you a better man. I know it can't have been easy to walk in your shoes, Iolaus, and I'll never have the words to tell you how much it has always meant to me that you chose to walk beside me. I don't know if being with me has made you a better man, but I do know that being with you has made me the man I am."

Herc fell silent as he hugged his friend tight, and listened to his laboured breathing through the ugly clay pipe, as Iolaus struggled to hold onto life. Swallowing, his eyes closed in weariness and despair, the demigod whispered, "Ever since I was a little kid, you've been my hero, Iolaus. I need you, buddy. I need you to believe in me, to back me up…to make me laugh. I need your courage and your strength. I need you more than you ever seem to understand."

* * *

When the healer returned a little after dawn, he found the demigod sitting on the floor, his friend in his arms, and until he heard the uneven, whistling breath, he thought the blond man had died. Hercules looked up when he stepped into the room, the demigod's face drawn with worry and exhaustion. "I've used up the salves you left, and I need more of the tea," he murmured, his voice hoarse from having talked all through the night.

Astonished that the injured man was still alive, Dagos nodded and turned away to send for more of the salve and to make another pot of tea. 'Maybe, just maybe,' he thought with a lift in his heart, 'maybe we'll get a miracle after all. By rights, that man should have died hours ago. If he can hold on this long, maybe he'll really make it all the way back.'

An hour later, the fever finally broke, leaving Iolaus bathed in sweat. Again, Hercules tenderly washed his buddy's body, taking care not to scrape the scabs over the tiny wounds. He applied the salve the healer had brought, then wrapped Iolaus in a clean, dry sheet.

"You're going to be okay," he murmured, over and over, finally daring to hope it was true.

Two hours after that, Dagos decided to see if Iolaus could breathe again on his own. Easing the clay pipe from the small wound in his patient's throat, he remained poised to reinsert it, if necessary. Iolaus' breath caught a moment, and he coughed, but then he gasped deeply, drawing in the cool, sweet air, and his respiration settled into a more natural pattern.

Dagos looked up at Hercules, who was smiling in unconscious relief, tears again glistening in his eyes. "You know," the healer murmured, "I think he's going to be all right."

Herc nodded, swallowing hard before he replied, "I know…I told you he would be." But, his heart hurt from the joy that was bursting out of it. Taking a deep breath of his own, he sighed as he bowed his head in silent relief, the tight muscles of his shoulders relaxing for the first time since he'd found Iolaus in the woods, covered by that swarm of deadly bees.

* * *

It was another three hours before Iolaus woke from the healing sleep he'd slipped into once the fever had broken. His body was still swollen from the hundreds of stings he had suffered, but the pain was receding. Blinking in the light that was streaming through the small window beside the bed, he sighed and looked around the room, his gaze alighting on Hercules. The demigod was slumped on the stool, still holding tightly to one of Iolaus' hands, his face gray with exhaustion, but there was a light of relief and something that looked suspiciously like joy in his eyes. He smiled slowly when he realized that Iolaus was awake.

"How're you doing?" he asked quietly, one hand lifting to brush back the unruly golden curls that tumbled over Iolaus' forehead, relieved to find his buddy's skin cool, the fever definitely gone.

His buddy cleared his throat, which felt sore and dry, before answering hoarsely, "Better than I was."

Hercules reached for a pitcher of water on the cupboard beside him and poured some into the well used mug. Leaning forward, he supported Iolaus' head, and held the mug to his lips to let him drink. When Iolaus had had enough, he gently laid his friend's head back down on the thin pillow. He just sat there for a long moment, gazing fondly at his best friend, then he said softly, "Welcome back."

Iolaus grinned weakly, his eyes dancing with laughter. "I couldn't very well leave when you kept talking to me all night. Gods, Herc, you went on and on…and on. I wish I could have made out the words, but all I seemed to hear was the sound of your voice. What in Tarturus did you find to talk about all night long?"

The demigod looked away, a diffident expression on his face, and shrugged, wondering why it was so easy to say all those things to Iolaus when he was unconscious, and so difficult when he was awake and waiting for an answer. "Oh, you know, just stuff," Hercules muttered, his voice still a little hoarse.

Milius had come to the door while they'd been talking, and listened quietly. But, now he walked in and set a bowl of soup on the little cupboard. "I thought your friend might be hungry when he woke up," he said.

"Ah, a man who understands the important things," Iolaus said, smiling up at Milius with gratitude, wondering at the preoccupied look in the man's eyes. "Thanks."

The tavern-keeper nodded absently, then turned back to the hall.

Hercules helped Iolaus shift himself up, so that he was sitting against the bed frame, and then the demigod reached for the soup, spooning up some of the fragrant broth. "Hey, I can feed myself," Iolaus protested, ever the independent spirit.

But, Hercules just grinned and shook his head. "Not with those hands," he replied, bringing the spoon to Iolaus' lips.

His buddy swallowed the soup, then raised his arms, frowning when he saw how badly his hands were still swollen from the venom of the stings. "Gods, these look terrible," he muttered.

"You think? You should have seen them last night," Hercules reassured him, as he brought forward another spoonful of broth. "Don't worry, they're getting better."

Iolaus just quirked his brows, glad that he couldn't remember it all. What he could remember was harrowing enough. While he swallowed spoonful after spoonful of the soup, the hunter studied his friend. When the broth was gone, he said, "Herc, you look like ten miles of bad road. You need to get some rest."

Hercules gazed at him briefly, deciding that Iolaus was, indeed, well on the road to recovery. Nodding, he yawned and stretched his arms, as he mumbled in agreement, "Right. I'm going next door to lie down for a while. Holler if you need anything."

"I will," Iolaus assured him, as he watched his friend stand and take two steps to the door of the chamber. Herc looked back once before he disappeared down the hall, giving a half wave, before he turned away.

Iolaus settled back down on the cot, letting himself drift into a light doze. But, before he fell asleep, he couldn't resist murmuring to the air, "You lose, Discord…." Imagining that he heard a howl of frustration, he grinned in satisfaction and relaxed into Morpheus' arms.

* * *

When Iolaus woke again, it was late in the afternoon, the amber light streaming through the window as the sun sank into the west. When he turned his gaze from the window, he was surprised to see Milius sitting quietly on the stool beside him, his hands clasping a small scroll. "Hi," the warrior said, using his elbows to push himself up to a sitting position. "I'm Iolaus."

"I know," the tavern keeper responded. "My name is Milius, and this is my tavern and inn."

"Pleased to meet you…and, thanks for giving me a room, and probably for all kinds of other help I don't remember," Iolaus replied.

Milius waved off the thanks, saying, "It was the least I could do after what you did to save the children." The man paused a moment, looking away, as if debating something in his own mind. Finally, after having apparently decided the matter, he sighed a little, and turned his gaze back to Iolaus. "I heard you say you didn't remember what your friend said to you last night, and when you asked, it sounded as if he didn't know how to tell you, now that you're awake."

Iolaus nodded slowly, a puzzled look on his face, wondering where the tavern keeper was going with this, as he replied, "Yeah, it was the strangest sensation, to be able to hear his voice but not be able to make out the words. I think I might have really drifted away if I hadn't been able to lock onto the sound of his voice, and feel him holding me. I wish I could remember…."

"Well, I wasn't meaning to eavesdrop, you understand, nor did I hear everything he said. But, I'd come down the hall from time to time to check if he needed anything, so I couldn't help hearing some of what he said," Milius explained diffidently. "I know it was private, like, but I have to tell you, if anyone ever said all that to me, I'd want to know it. So, well, I wrote some of it down, made it a kind of poem, so's you'd know a bit of what you mean to him."

With that, Milius held out the scroll. Once Iolaus had taken it, the man bobbed his head once, then quickly stood and left the chamber. It was private, and he didn't want to intrude on the moments of time when Iolaus read the words his best friend had said. The hunter watched the man go, then awkwardly unrolled the scroll, his hands still swollen, his fingers stiff. Tilting it a little into the light from the window, he began to read.

"You sit in silence in the shadows, you don't complain or criticize.

And while the world may see me as a fool, they're not looking through your eyes.

No questions asked, you're there when I need you,

With a love that inspires me to be everything you deserve.

'Cause you're my unsung hero,

And I know it's not easy to walk in your shoes.

Day after day, you continue to amaze me.

Now I sing this song of love for you.

While others long to steal the spotlight,

You work your magic quietly.

'Cause you're not in it for the glory,

The love you give comes naturally.

I may not have much,

But what I have, I give to you.

And this song that I sing is my gift,

And I swear that I mean every word.

'Cause you're my unsung hero,

And I know it's not easy to walk in your shoes.

Day after day, you continue to amaze me.

Now I sing this song of love for you.

For you."

When he'd finished reading, Iolaus let the scroll roll itself up as he sat with his head back against the bed frame, his eyes gazing sightlessly out of the window. There was a lump in his throat that he had to swallow before taking a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly against the moisture in his eyes and sniffing unconsciously. Herc never said much normally, finding it hard to express the sentiments that touched him most deeply. Iolaus crossed his arms tightly as he thought about the words on the scroll, imagined Hercules saying them, and was astonished. He'd never questioned his own feelings for the demigod. He just knew Herc was his friend, his best friend, and the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life. Hercules was his life. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else, than going where Hercules led, doing whatever needed to be done. He hadn't thought much about what he meant to Hercules, just was grateful that Herc considered him his best friend.

He swallowed again, biting his lip as he bowed his head, touched beyond words by what he had read, his chest tight with the realization that Hercules had said these things, over and over, during the past night, as he'd held Iolaus' soul in thrall, not letting him slip away. He was Hercules' hero? Gods, it didn't seem such a thing could be possible. And, yet, Hercules had said these things to him, not knowing anyone else would hear the words, had meant them. Swallowing, Iolaus lifted his head, and brushed awkward fingers over his eyes, pushing away the moisture they found there. Sighing, he picked up the scroll, and leaned over the side of the cot to tuck it into his pack that was lying on the floor by the wall.

That little scrap of parchment had just become his most prized possession.

Lying back on the cot, he found himself smiling, his heart gladdened by the knowledge of what he meant to Hercules. But, the look in his eyes became thoughtful as he promised himself that Herc would never have cause to regret those words, or to retract them. He'd do all he could to live up to Herc's belief and trust in him. So long as he lived, he'd never let his best friend down, no matter what.

Iolaus didn't realize that this was a vow he had no need of making. It was, quite simply, the way he'd lived his whole life since meeting Hercules so many years ago. It was his natural way of being that had led the demigod to trust and respect him, and to see him as Hercules' own hero, the person the demigod aspired most to be like.

Hercules wandered in not long after, running a hand through his hair as he yawned a little, and rolled his shoulders, looking much better than he had a few hours before. "How are you doing?" he asked as he settled onto the stool by the side of the cot.

"Good, I'm good," Iolaus said, his eyes not quite meeting those of his friend. Then, with a warm smile, he lifted his gaze, as he said with a hint of laughter, "In fact, I'm great. I think we'll be able to continue on to Plathos tomorrow."

"You're sure? Maybe you should rest another day," Hercules suggested, not wanting Iolaus to push himself and use up his limited reserves of energy. Gods, he couldn't be strong enough yet, not after what he'd been through.

But, Iolaus just nodded, as he replied, "Yeah, I'm sure. There're people in Plathos who need us, who are dying in the war there. We've lost enough time already."

When Hercules just looked skeptical and uneasy, Iolaus continued, "Look, why don't you go get us something to eat. If it turns out that I'm not strong enough in the morning, well, we can decide then whether to go or not. Okay?"

"Alright," Hercules agreed, as he stood and turned toward the door.

But, just before he was gone, Iolaus called out, "Herc?"

The demigod turned, one brow quirking at the tentative sound in Iolaus' voice. His buddy just looked at him silently for a moment, then said quietly, "Thanks…thanks for not giving up on me, for holding onto me, and for talking me through the worst of it. I wouldn't have made it without you."

Herc's eyes dropped and he swallowed hard. Then, he looked back up, the light from the setting sun illuminating all the words he couldn't seem to say, all the feelings he found so hard to express. It was all there in his eyes. But, he only said, "Anytime, buddy. You do the same for me, every day."

Without another word, he was gone into the darkness of the hall as he headed toward the tavern to get them something to eat. Iolaus blinked as he took a shuddering breath, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "I'd do anything for you, Herc," he whispered into the silence. "'Cause you are my hero…and you always will be."

Finis

Disclaimer: The words of Milius' song are, in reality, Terri Clark's song, Unsung Hero...the words seemed to describe our Golden Hunter perfectly and sounded exactly how Herc would describe him.


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